


somewhere holy

by deadlifts



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Biting, Dehumanization, Fighting, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Under-negotiated, throatfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlifts/pseuds/deadlifts
Summary: After being injured in battle, Dimitri refuses all attempts to heal him. Felix takes matters into his own hands.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	somewhere holy

**Author's Note:**

> Some warnings: This takes place post-TS but before Gronder. The smut is under-negotiated (could be read as dubcon) & Felix refers to Dimitri as a 'beast,' 'boar,' etc. (so some dehumanization).
> 
> Originally posted on the FE3H kinkmeme for the [prompt](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=1985096): Felix throatfucks Dimitri. Bonus points if Dimitri cries
> 
> Big thanks to [SecondDerivative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondDerivative) for plotting this out with me! And for encouraging me to write it in the first place. ♥

Felix hears it long before he steps across the rubble: the low drone of a voice lowered in mantra, a litany of promises drawn out and then severed, a prayer choked and broken: 

_I will_ , the voice groans, _I will_ — 

And then the shuffling: the strong stride of a beast interrupted by the drag of limp, a stuttering step that falters. 

Felix walks across stone and glass to enter the cathedral and take in the sight of the boar: an animal injured, stalking its lair, flanked by rubble and shrouded in darkness. 

A memory surfaces: Felix’s first hunt, bow in hand, standing amidst a field that was once ripe with crops, now trenched and muddy, destroyed. _What did this?_ Felix had asked his brother, breathless at the sight of such destruction. _This_ , Glenn had replied as he surveyed the damage, _Is why we hunt boar_. 

_Reckless_ , he said. _Violent. Dangerous._

_Irredeemable_ , Felix had added. 

A boar cannot be controlled. Left to its own devices, it will tear up the land. It will gore you with its tusks. It will lose sight of what matters and take away everything you once held dear. 

Felix steps forward. The beast stops and whirls around. Its cloak catches on the rubble; it pulls taut, revealing a wet stain down the beast's ribs, extending to its thigh. 

It bleeds. 

A boar will carry on even when injured. It will not roll over. It will not give up. 

“Leave me,” the beast growls. 

“Look at you,” Felix says with disgust. “Hiding in your cave with your tail between your legs, skulking around like the animal you are.” 

Mercedes had tried to heal the beast after the strike that tore into its flesh, but it had spurned her, just like it spurns all hands extended toward its cause. Just like it spurns Felix now, a snarl on its face, its teeth bared. 

“I said leave,” the beast warns, flexing its claws. 

“Or what?” Felix challenges. “Will you attack me? Tear into me the way you tear into the soldiers who cross your path?” 

Wounded animals are dangerous, desperate to prove they can still fight, that they are still powerful, even as they are stuck with weapons, opened up and exposed. This animal is no different. 

It crosses the gap to grasp Felix’s neck. 

“I will cut down anyone in my way,” it promises, that single eye boring into Felix, that grip squeezing his throat. 

Felix raises his chin. His speech is garbled by the pressure of the claws that dig into his skin. “You will accept treatment.” 

Felix has no faith for this beast, nor any love for the art forced upon him in the name of the war, and yet his hands glow easily, as though they have always been primed to fix that which cannot be mended — as though they always wanted to try. 

“No!” it barks, shoving him back against a half-crumbled pillar. Felix’s back collides with the stone, an impact that seizes his chest. Debris falls around him. 

“Boar,” he coughs as he pushes off of the pillar. “You are in no shape to face me.” 

“You forget who I am,” the beast replies as it pulls its cloak free of the rubble. “What I am capable of doing to you.” 

“I have never forgotten,” Felix says, approaching him again. “You are the one who fails to remember.” 

The boar that is cornered will not accept its fate. It will buck. It will charge. 

The beast darts forward. 

It slams into Felix and knocks him to the ground. “Leave,” it demands from atop him. 

Felix fights, as he always does. He shoves and struggles and the beast merely holds him tighter, closer, bears down on him. Felix stares into its one eye. It stares back. 

To beat a beast, one must act like a beast. Felix presses his hand into the stain that wets its clothing. He presses hard. 

The beast groans. Its voice raises in volume, louder and louder, until it is outright howling. It tips forward and begins to shake from the pain. 

“Get off of me, boar,” Felix says and attempts to push it away. 

The beast does not release him. 

Felix shoves it again, harder, and the beast reacts with renewed vigor. It reaches for Felix, tangling its claws in his shirt and yanking him. They tussle once more, only this time, Felix ends up on top, with the boar bucking beneath him, a rumbling building in its chest. 

“In this state, you cannot even defeat me,” Felix says, pressing down on its chest with his palms, keeping the beast at bay. “Let alone serve your ghosts.” 

The beast grabs his shirt again, pulling him downward, closer, until they are face-to-face, eye-to-eye, and Felix has no choice but to stare into the bloodlust of its glare. 

“Return to your room,” the beast roars, “before I lose what little control remains to me.” 

“You will lie still,” Felix states, “And I will heal you.” 

The beast bucks again. “If you will not listen —” 

Felix shifts from staring into the beast’s eye to sinking his teeth into its neck — slowly, making it feel the sting of his teeth build into a sharp and unrelenting pain. If the beast will not accept his words, then Felix will teach it a lesson in the way it understands — with animalistic aggression, tooth and nail, violence and pain. 

The beast grunts, its arms slackening, its hands grip loosening. Its bucking slows until it is less of a struggle and more of a grind, a rolling of its hips as its body attempts to relax beneath Felix. 

It begins to submit. 

Felix releases the beast’s skin. It is red and angry, each tooth mark punctured inward. When he sits up, the beast’s hands wander from his front to his hips and settle there, motions more tentative than moments prior. 

“Felix,” it says mournfully, as though it remembers. 

“Don’t,” Felix replies, attempting to get to his feet. But when he tries to push off the beast, it follows him, maintaining its hold until Felix is upright. Then it kneels before him, as though in worship. 

As though the beast has forgotten that it now only kneels for ghosts. 

“Felix,” the boar murmurs again, pressing its face against his hip. Its hands roam, now clutching at Felix’s thighs. 

Felix kicks out his boot in an attempt to shove the boar away. It has the opposite effect. The boar clutches him tighter, without exercising control over its strength, its fingers likely to leave bruises in their wake. 

“You animal,” Felix hisses, kicking again, this time aiming for its injured side. “Mind your strength or I will take you down.” 

The beast winces as Felix boot grazes its wound, his grip easing into an attempt at being gentle. Then it ruts against Felix’s still-extended foot, a quick but meaningful grind of its hips — a mating display. It should sicken Felix, should send his hand to the hilt of his sword and the blade to the boar’s throat. 

Instead, it stirs something within him — something long forgotten, buried but not yet dead. 

“I have missed you,” the boar says with Dimitri’s voice, looking up at Felix as it grinds itself down on his boot. 

Felix jerks his leg back. “Those words are not for you to say.” And yet it has already said them — has already unearthed the subtle but desperate need that lies dormant in Felix’s core. 

“I thought of you,” the beast continues. “I still think of you.” 

Felix flinches, those words as sharp as the beast’s claws — a lie dressed up as a truth, spewed forth in the form of a confession. He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of the beast’s hair, shoving its head down so that it will stop looking at him. “Control your mouth or I will do it for you.” 

The beast has the gall to laugh. It pushes against Felix’s hand to nudge forward, mouthing at Felix’s clothed groin like a wild pig. Felix feels himself growing hard at the contact, the boar’s untamed hunger drawing out his own yearning. 

He is losing control. If he cannot keep the beast subdued, it will continue to wreak destruction — on itself and everything in its path. 

Felix yanks it by the hair and pulls until the boar is looking up at him again. “I warned you.” With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants and undergarments down to his thighs. 

The beast watches with evident hunger. It parts its lips, brandishing teeth and tongue, showing that it must be broken with force. 

Felix is rapidly hardening now that he’s exposed — now that he feels the beast’s warm breath on his cock, threat and promise both laced throughout each exhalation. 

“You have missed me, too,” the boar observes, refusing to quiet despite the way Felix tightens his grip in its hair. 

“Your mouth will be your undoing,” Felix tells it, and without any further warning, he urges his hips forward, shoving his cock into the beast's mouth. 

A dangerous sound builds in the back of the beast’s throat, low and rumbling as it sucks Felix’s cock into full firmness. It attempts to bob its head back and forth, but Felix maintains his grip in its hair, refusing it leverage. The beast then has no choice but to remain in place as it sucks, tightening its lips and sloppily moving its tongue. 

Even that offers too much advantage to the beast; it will not be broken, kowtowed, prostrated — until it is powerless. 

Felix yanks its head back, then jerks it forward — pulls his cock out of its mouth, then thrusts it so far back into the beast’s throat that it gags around him in surprise. Then Felix does it again, and again, until the only sounds that the beast makes are the snorts of a struggling animal and the wet slide of a mouth that no longer belongs to it. 

Felix’s own control is tested as the heat of the beast’s mouth envelopes him over and over again. Each instinctual clenching of its mouth unravels the threads of his purpose, especially once Felix hits back of its throat and the beast sputters around him, a low groan reverberating around his cock. 

The beast grabs his hips to steady itself, then migrates its hands to his ass, holding onto to him with its inhuman grip. Felix fucks its mouth harder, pulling on its hair and snapping his hips with sharp movements, his cock driving into the back of the boar’s throat with repetitive force until its lips are forced to slacken, to give up any attempt at gaining control, instead allowing its mouth to be thoroughly used. Spit escapes its lips and dribbles down its chin, making it appear every part the wild boar Felix knows it to be. 

And yet the beast remains unmoved, even as it chokes around him — it sheds no tears, offers no pleading glances, gives Felix not a shred of its humanity. 

But Felix cannot focus on that for long. He starts to tip from measured to unrestrained, pleasure mounting within him, pushing him toward a place of no return. He can no longer plan his thrusts; he fails to time the roll of his hips according to the beast’s growing fervor. 

Sensing the way Felix’s hand slowly relaxes against its head and hearing the moan that attempts to escape from Felix's throat, the beast tears itself from his grip and unleashes its mouth upon him in a whole new way — tongue lapping at him eagerly, lips dragging over his crown. 

Now Felix does moan, long and loud, legs quivering. He struggles to remain upright, to keep his eyes on the boar, but he fails in both efforts — nearly loses footing and shuts his eyes tightly as he tenses toward his climax. 

“Dimitri —” he gasps as he loses purchase, forgetting himself and the beast both. 

Something changes, then — a shifting of hands from his ass to his back, steadying him, then a slowing of mouth and lips, a quelling of animalistic grunts. Something loosens within Dimitri and he turns careful, gentle, tender. 

Felix attempts to hold back his orgasm to look at Dimitri — to see him. 

But when Dimitri glances up at him — when Felix looks down and sees that his cheek is stained, his eye now softened and wet with emotion, Felix loses himself. Something within him dislodges — breaks free and tears through him as he comes, shuddering, reaching for Dimitri to keep him from falling. 

Dimitri accepts him — swallows everything down and wraps his arms around Felix’s legs to keep him stable. Dimitri _hugs_ him, and as Felix shivers through the aftershocks of his release, he rests his hand on Dimitri’s head and accepts him in turn. 

Dimitri pulls him closer, clutches him tighter. As Felix weaves his fingers through his hair in subdued but gentle strokes, Dimitri quivers against him, breath hitching into a shattering gasp — his orgasm a quiet, delicate rippling that leaves him trembling against Felix. 

They remain like that, Dimitri holding Felix, Felix’s fingers in his hair, until Felix finally speaks. 

“You will let me heal you.” 

Dimitri rests his forehead against Felix’s thigh. “Yes,” he replies softly. 

Felix’s hands glow, and for once, he is successful in mending. 

He closes a wound. 


End file.
